


I Deserve Better

by thenakednymph



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M, Tagging all of them, after the Bob Incident, because fuck you Lance deserves better, because this is about Lance's relationship with all of them falling apart, had Lance decided he was DONE, just a what if, there is no happy ending, this is nothing but pain and
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-08-28 15:24:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16725975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenakednymph/pseuds/thenakednymph
Summary: After the game show and the events of the previous few months Lance decides he's done. He deserves better.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my drafts forever and it's not going anywhere so I'm just going to post it. It's not really anything more than an exercise for what might happen had Lance decided he wasn't okay with what happened during the game show. What if he finally just said fuck it and walked away. Because Lance deserves better and he deserves to be angry. There is no closure and no happy ending but it is open ended. I had intended for Lance to eventually come back around but I can't seem to write it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor edit for more pain.

It takes them three days to find an adequate place to land after the Bob Incident. They end up camping on an asteroid that has a left over mining operation and an artificial atmosphere still intact.

They all groan and stretch, happy to be free of their lions and set about making camp. Lance hangs back, watching everyone before scanning their surroundings. There's a nearby overlook and he heads for it.

“Where you headed?” Shiro asks, seeing him skirting the edge of the campsite they're building.

“Going to go survey the area, keep watch so nothing sneaks up on us.”

Shiro glances around. “Pretty sure everything on this asteroid but us is dead.” He smiles and it feels like a peace offering.

Lance grins, spreading his arms as he walks backwards. “Doesn't hurt to make sure.”

He makes his way to the top of the overlook, scavenging bits of material to build a low fire, building up a small pile of stones and metal. He uncaps the two vials he carried with him from Red, pouring first one and then the other onto the pile. In moments the chemicals react and the stones begin to glow, radiating both light and heat.

He pulls out his bayard, shifting it into a sniper rifle to maintain the pretense and stands on the edge of the overlook, surveying the area.

The atmosphere overhead shifts like an aurora, shades of yellow, red, and green blending into and out of one another. Every once in awhile he catches a glimpse of the stars through the clouds.

He watches as the others move around the campsite below him. If he focuses he can just make out their voices. He tries not to.

The surface of the asteroid is vast and barren, the rock a dull blue grey, patches of it a warm brown in places. The light from the aurora overhead is dim but casts shadows across the surface, warping the color of the stone, making it look surreal and dreamlike. In spite of the others down below him Lance feels more alone than he ever has, the fire at his back doing little to chase away the cold he feels.

“Hey.”

Lance turns and watches Keith climb the rise to join him.

“What are you doing up here?” He smiles and it’s teasing. “Playing lookout?”

Lance turns away and scans the horizon. Or what passes as a horizon on an asteroid. It shouldn’t hurt, not really. Keith is only teasing but after everything it does.

“I’m not playing at anything.” His voice is cool and aloof as he looks at Keith. His expression is more closed off than Keith has ever seen it. “I never was.”

Keith isn’t sure what Lance’s sudden mood is about but he does his best to try and draw him out.

“Pretty sure we're the only ones here,” Keith says, his voice lilting. “We don’t need you to keep watch.” Lance doesn't respond. He only hears the first half of the sentence, echoing around in his head over and over again.

“What else are you doing?” Keith asks, sensing there's more to Lance's decision to post himself so far away from the others than he's letting on but Lance isn’t making it easy to pull him into conversation.

Lance shrugs a shoulder, eyes still on the  terrain ahead of him. “Needed some space.” He hopes Keith will take the hint and leave him alone.

The corner of Keith's mouth lifts wryly, expecting a joke about them being in space but it never comes and the smile falls and something niggles at the back of his mind again.

“Are you...okay?” Keith ventures.

Lance stares at Keith, searching his dark eyes and he hurts. He's tired. Of everything. Tired of trying, of not being good enough, tired of doubting and missing home; of missing Keith. But the Keith he remembers wouldn't have left him behind and wouldn't have said the things he did on the stupid gameshow. It feels silly but it hurts.

When Keith left Lance felt abandoned and it didn't help that everyone else seemed to pair off, leaving him feeling adrift and out of place. When Keith came back Lance had hoped, however foolishly, that maybe things would go back to normal, that'd he'd have a place again. He was wrong.

“I used to think I was in love with you.”

The confession catches Keith so off-guard it takes him a moment to process what Lance has said. When he does his heart soars, a smile just beginning before he goes cold. His heart plummets into his boots as he realizes Lance's use of the past tense. He can hear his blood pounding in his ears.

“Used to?” His voice comes out high and tight. He can feel sweat beginning to form on his palms.

“You're not exactly the same person who left to join the Blade two years ago.” Lance's eyes look dead as he shrugs and Keith realizes something is wrong. His heart trips over with anxiety. Something is really wrong.

He searches Lance's face, desperate for any kind of hint as to what's going through his mind but realizes he can't read anything in Lance's expression.

“What happened while I was gone?” It sounds pleading, even to him. Because it had to have been something that happened while he was trapped on the space whale. Because Lance is different. It was subtle before but now it's impossible to miss; Lance is more reserved and withdrawn from the others. He doesn't interact as much as he used to and doesn't really actively participate anymore. He lingers in the back now, saying just enough to keep their attention off him as he pretends to participate and Keith has no idea where this is coming from.

“Nothing that wasn't bound to happen,” Lance says, sounding detached. He says it like it's a fact.

Keith frowns. “What does that mean?”

Lance sighs and he sounds ages old. “People change Keith, everything is always changing. I can feel it all shifting around me like currents in the water, moving past me no matter how hard I try to hold onto it.” He lets his head loll on his shoulders. “So I stopped holding on.” He smiles but it's wry and lazy.

“What is this about?” Keith asks, his voice soft.

Lance hefts his bayard in his arms, adjusting the weight of it. “The game show, for lack of a better word, put some things into perspective for me. Let me know where I'm needed.”

Keith feels himself go cold again. His breathing shallows.

Lance smiles but it doesn't reach his eyes which still look so empty.

“What are you talking about?”

“I wouldn't want to be stuck with me for all eternity either.”

Keith visibly winces, his face flushing in humiliation.

Lance steps around him, resting his rifle casually over one shoulder, his voice soft. “When we get back to Earth...find another paladin.

Keith spins around. “What?” He fumbles for words, his brows knitting together. “What does that mean?” His heart is racing so quickly it hurts.

Lance turns to look at Keith over his shoulder. “It means what it means,” he says gently, his voice resigned. Even after everything he's trying not to hurt Keith. He doesn't know if he hates himself for it.

“I'm done.” His bayard collapses and Lance stows it away with a flick of his wrist, making his way back down to the lions.

~

He grabs a pillow and a blanket from the back of Red and the Alteans equivalent of an MRE and spends the night on the overlook. No one else comes to talk to him and he wonders if it's because Keith told them to give him space or if they just don't care. He doesn't know which option he prefers.

He could spend the night in Red. The little stowaway bed would be more comfortable than the hard stone of the asteroid but he can't help feeling like he doesn't belong there. It feels too much like wearing Keith's skin, like he's pretending to be something he's not.

His eyes wander to Blue where she sits with the others, wedged between Yellow and Red and his heart hurts. He still feels the sharp sting of rejection from when she shut him out. It feels like a part of him is missing and it's a piece Red doesn't fit. He wonders if that's his own failing.

He spends the night by the chemical fire and what rest he manages to catch is fitful and restless.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't expecting to split this into another two chapters, but here we are.

They sleep for eight hours before Keith is rousing everyone and Hunk sets about cooking breakfast. Lance doesn't know how he manages to stay so upbeat. It's not something he can find the strength for anymore.

He forces himself to eat breakfast with the others but says little, citing a lack of sleep for his general moodiness and attitude. He isn't hungry.

They seem to buy it and Lance isn't sure if he's relieved they swallow the lie or bitter they don’t catch him in it. Either way his mood sinks further. Stars, he misses coffee.

He can feel Keith's eyes following him all morning but doesn't return the gaze. Thankfully Keith doesn’t say anything about last night.

Lance waits for breakfast to be over in agonized silence.

~

The next time they stop they manage to find what looks something like an old tavern, renting a couple of rooms for the night. Lance pays for a room of his own, citing something about drama and needing his rest and how could he possibly be expected to share a bed. He doesn't care if they believe him or not, he's not ready to spend more time with them all.

Normally he enjoyed and appreciated the inane chatter across the comms, couldn't stand the crushing silence of space, but today every sound grates against his nerves, scraping him raw. It's an exercise in patience to keep from screaming until they land. Even Red is stiff and sluggish in his hands.

Lance rubs at dry eyes, waving off Hunk’s concern and saying he has a headache. Coran presses a painkiller into Lance's palm with a sad smile. He doesn't say anything, doesn't ask but Lance can see questions in his eyes. He touches Lance's arm and Lance tries to smile, to reassure, but he’s tired of faking it. Coran gives him a gentle squeeze before walking away. Lance pockets the painkiller.

Lance skips dinner and goes to bed early, citing the same headache.

He wants to be alone.

~

Safely ensconced in his private room Lance is able to take a hot bath and wow, he's never taking that for granted again. He doesn't know how long it's been since they embarked for Earth after the destruction of the castle. It feels like an eternity.

Lance groans and sinks further into the tub, sinking as deep as he can. He stares up at the ceiling and the gaping hole in his chest stretches wider, like a black maw, threatening to swallow him from the inside out. Lance feels himself teetering on the edge of the precipice and the lets himself fall.

Everything hurts. He's so far from home, from the people who love him, and everything he knows. He'd been foolish to think there was nothing else he could lose.

He takes a shuddering breath and sinks below the water. The heat is uncomfortable on his face but if he closes his eyes he can pretend he's back at home in Varadero, soaking in the tub upstairs, that Veronica is hammering on the door, shouting at him to get out and stop hogging the bathroom.

The surfacing memory feels like being stabbed and Lance surfaces with a gasp, a sob catching in his throat.

He realizes he wasn't imagining the knocking and he swipes water from his face.

“Lance?” It's Hunk's voice and Lance looks across the room at the door, glad that he locked it. He tries to swallow back the lump in his throat before speaking.

“Yeah?”

There's a pause and Lance panics, thinking maybe Hunk can hear the heartsick in his voice.

“Are you okay?” Lance can almost hear him twiddling his fingers. “You've just- you've been a little off for a couple of weeks?” There's another pause and Lance can imagine Hunk shifting nervously. “Are you alright?” If he’d asked a scant week ago Lance might have cracked and spilled the ugly truth that’s festering inside of him. Now though...

“I'm fine Hunk.” He knows that isn't going to placate Hunk but his brain is scrambling to come up with an excuse. “I think just being in space this long is getting to me. Having trouble sleeping.”

“Oh. Do you need anything?”

Lance sinks up to his chin in the tub, staring at his knees. “No, I'll be okay.”

“Okay.” There's another pause and Lance hears the floorboards creak. “You know you can still talk to me right? If-”

“Goodnight Hunk.” He hates to do it, hates to be so dismissive, but a mean part of him hopes it hurts. He can hear the floorboards creak outside the door again as Hunk shifts uncomfortably.

“Goodnight.” He sounds small and hurt but like he really hopes Lance has a good night.

The hurt in his voice doesn't make Lance feel any better. He sinks deeper into the water until it’s lapping over his nose and wonders what it would feel like to drown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time Lance sneaks out of his room and finds some comfort, Keith tries to redeem himself and heal the wound he's put in Lance's heart.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance finds a touch of comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn’t meant to split this into two chapters but I’m not ready to post Keith’s word vomit yet. So have something a little softer than previously.

Lance drags everything out of the lion he can and dumps it into the small chute in the room, leaving it to wash. Everything smells rank. It hits him all at once that they’re essentially refugees. Everything is gone. _Everything._

For the first time he feels well and truly alone.

Unable to stand the weight of silence and unwilling to spend time with people who don’t want his company, he crawls out through the window.

It’s petty and childish but he’s afraid of running into one of them. And it’s not like he hasn’t snuck out of a number of buildings before. He’s practically a specialist.

Lance hits the ground and zips up his coat, now worn out in places, and tucking his hands into his pockets. The night is dark and quiet, the moon a warm wine overhead. Music and chatter drift through the air and Lance follows it around to the back of the tavern.

A number of aliens sit around a fire, laughing and speaking lowly, at least one of them playing what looks like a guitar, the notes they’re plucking lingering in the air before fading. A couple is standing off to the side, swaying to the sound.

Lance lingers by the back porch, leaning into the railing, listening. His heart aches. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed music.

It isn’t long before one of the aliens takes notice of him spying, not that he’s making an effort to ensure his presence remains unknown. An androgynous red alien with scales dappling their forehead and back, spines cresting over their scalp lifts their head, their eyes catching Lance’s. Their eyes are warm and dark and when their gazes meet they smile and wave him over.

Lance hesitates for a moment before pushing off the post and walking to the fire. None of them say anything but another alien presses a bottle of something warm into his hands and he takes a careful sip before passing it back.

The music starts up again and Lance hates that he feels more welcome here with this group of strangers than with what he once considered his own family. He sinks onto the log, both of the aliens on either side of him scooting closer. The little red one puts their head on his shoulder and the other leans into his side, offering wordless comfort, seemingly intrinsically to understand what he needs.

The weight and warmth of them helps to ground Lance and instead of being strange it’s comfortable. He relaxes into their presence and feels like he can finally breathe as they wrap their arms around him and he them, holding on. It feels like the only thing keeping him from spiraling out into space.

Something in their presence reminds him of Blue and her particular brand of comfort, soft but so very strong. He swallows thickly and tries not to cry, holding them tightly.

The red alien pulls back and looks at him strangely, a curious warble building low in their throat, a question Lance doesn’t know how to answer. Lance smiles, trying to communicate that he’s okay and lifts his arm, inviting them back under from where they’ve pulled away. They slide in against his side and Lance tips a cheek against their head, sighing heavily and leaning against his newfound support.

A part of him knows it won’t last beyond tonight but maybe that’s part of the magic of it. It’s here now and he’ll take it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith has a lot to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depression sucks guys. Have the next part. 
> 
> This currently the last chapter of this but I’ll admit, I do have a few ideas for a closure chapter that I’m playing with. That is by no means a guarantee it’ll get written or posted, but if some of you want to hold out for a happy ending, there may be one. Just saying.

Keith is waiting in the shadows of the back porch when Lance decides he should try and get some sleep, bidding his companions goodnight. He runs his hand down the back of the red one’s head, kissing it and then the other on his other side, thanking them for their support. He smiles and steps away from the fire.

When Lance realizes Keith is there he doesn’t even bother trying to hide how hurt and exhausted he is. He doesn’t have the energy. Instead Keith has to watch as Lance’s steps falter, the careful ease he’s found shattering as his shoulders sag and he seems to crumble under some enormous weight. All Keith can think is he put it there. And he doesn’t know how to make it better.

Lance tucks his hands in his pockets as he approaches, shoulders that were straight just a minute ago bowing and Keith realizes he looks scared. Of him. Lance steps up to and past Keith before Keith manages to find his voice.

“I owe you an apology.” The words come out in a rush once they make it past the knot in his throat and he drags in a deep breath, afraid of stopping.

“And you don’t have to listen to me.” He doesn’t turn around as Lance’s footsteps vanish. He doesn’t hear them stop. Just knows that between one moment and the next they’re gone.

“You don’t even have to stay,” he whispers, guilt and hurt he knows he doesn’t deserve to feel thickening his voice. “Not now or when we get back to Earth.”

He only hopes Lance is still there, listening, that he didn’t walk away. He doesn’t have the courage to look.

“I didn’t.” And Keith knows he sounds so small, even to his own ears. His fingers curl into fists.

“But this isn’t about me.” He takes a deep breath, staring at the low flames of the fire ahead of him, the figures still speaking lowly, music chasing him through the shadows. “You deserved better,” he says. “From me and everyone else.” He bows his head, toeing at the dirt and hating himself.

“In the game show…” The fear tightens its grip on his throat but he works through it, fighting for the truth.

“I lied,” he rasps and the admission makes him tremble. He has to clear his throat. “I’m not...good- with admitting I care. And I do.” He pinches at his eyes, trying not to cry.

“I push people away and hurt them before they can hurt me. And that’s not an excuse for what I said,” he rushes on. “Nothing I say or do will ever take that away.” He lifts his head and stares into the fire until he sees black spots.

“But you deserve to know that I chose you because if anyone could find a way out of this war and salvage as much as possible on the other side it’s _you._ ”

He stares up at the stars, wishing they were the constellations he’d memorized all that time ago back in the desert, dancing in and out of the holes in his vision.

“You have so much love in your heart Lance. Please don’t let me be what makes you shut off from the world.” Keith couldn’t bear to be the one responsible for that.

“You have given more than enough to the war,” he says. “You have. And you deserve to go home and be with the people you love.” And he means it. “You deserve to _rest._ To be happy and loved and with people who will treat you the way you deserve to be treated.” It kills him to admit what he says next. “Because it’s obvious it’s not with us.” He squeezes his eyes shut and they burn.

“Even if I want it to be.” Because Lance deserves to know that too.

“You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met,” he says softly, blinking up at the sky. “You face down the horrors of war and violence with love and hope and laughter and the universe needs that. But it’s not your responsibility to fix it. You have the right to choose what you do now.” He wants Lance to know he has the right to choose. And that Keith won’t fight him.

“I hope one day you find what _you_ need.” Keith lowers his head, eyes chasing spots in the dark. “And someone who can treat you better than I did.” He’s ashamed of the way his voice cracks but he means it. “Because you deserve that too.”

He doesn’t even know if Lance is still there. He doesn’t know if that makes it easier or harder to say what he thinks needs to be said. Or if he’s making himself understood at all.

“You don’t owe me or the universe or anyone shit Lance. You’ve done enough. Only you can decide if you have any more to give. No one has any right to ask more of you.

“But I also want you to understand that you’re smart and observant and filled with so much love and hope and I _see_ that. You’re clever and one of the most incredibly talented pilots and marksmen I’ve ever met.

“You care about people and give so much of yourself, even at the detriment of your own self and happiness and I took advantage of that when you reached out to me.” The guilt is eating him alive. The worst part of it is he doesn’t know that he would even feel guilty if Lance hadn’t called him out on it.

“You made yourself vulnerable and instead of doing the same I cut you as deep as I could.” Keith takes a deep breath that rattles his ribs.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me.” The words come out tight with the tears he pretends he isn’t shedding. “I don’t even want you to because I don’t deserve it. But I hope you know how desperately you deserve to be happy. To be loved. You’re worth so much more than this.” He stares into the fire again, wanting to turn back time. “And I wish I’d told you that. Wish someone else had told you before I broke your heart and your trust.” His voice cracks again and Keith presses his fingers into his eyes until he sees stars, trying to get ahold of himself. He’s making a mess of everything. He manages to draw a stable breath and drops his hand.

“Because now I would understand if you didn’t believe me.” He chews on his lip, pulling at the dead skin until it bleeds. “I wouldn’t. But _that_ is why I chose you.”

He resigns himself to his own heartbreak knowing he’s probably lost one of the few things in his life that actually matters. The one thing he’d been selfish enough to want for himself and he lets the honesty bleed out of him.

“I hope you find someone who treats you the way you deserve to be treated and loves you the way you deserve to be loved,” he says softly.

“Because now I know it isn’t me.” He hangs his head. “Maybe it was never supposed to be.” He swallows thickly.

“You deserve better.”

He glances behind himself, into the shadows where Lance had vanished. He hadn’t really expected Lance to stick around and listen to his sudden word vomit but it still hurts to see the porch empty behind him.

Keith’s heart sinks and he leans heavily against the railing, trying not to cry.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, the weight on his shoulders dragging him down more surely than gravity. “Stars, I’m so sorry.” He doesn’t know if he’s apologizing to Lance or himself, doesn’t know that it matters. He’s sorry for both of them.

Keith stares into the fire for a long time, wishing he could go back and change it, tell Lance the truth, take back the lie he’d hidden behind to save himself some stupid embarrassment. Because it wasn’t worth it.

Not because he wants Lance to forgive him, but because it’s something he deserves to hear.

“You’re the only one who listens to me you know?”

Keith’s eyes widen at the soft voice drifting down to him from the overhang and he nearly chokes on his heart as it leaps into his mouth. He realizes Lance managed to slip past him, climb a drainpipe, and sit on the overhang all without him hearing. He’s been listening to the entire ugly spiel spilling out of Keith’s mouth and Keith flushes all the way down his throat and his ears burn, mortified.

He doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry, both relieved and humiliated.

They both sit in silence, Keith’s heart racing in his chest as he stares wide eyed into the fire, throat tight.

“I’m not ready to forgive you,” Lance whispers and Keith nods, unsure if Lance can see him or not, forcing himself not to turn around and look up.

“I don’t know that I can.” Keith blinks and his battered heart throws itself against his ribs. He deserved that, but it still hurts. More than he thought it would.

Keith presses a hand over his chest, trying to soothe the pain in his heart.

When Lance speaks it’s little more than a whisper and so soft Keith isn’t sure he hears him.

“But I think I want to.” The voice becomes more distant and Keith realizes he’s heading for the window but not before whispering, “Give me time.”

“Goodnight Lance.” He doesn’t turn around, doesn’t look up, just trusts that Lance is there, listening, like he always is. Like he was just a moment ago.

There’s a silent pause where he thinks Lance isn’t going to answer him, that he’s already gone. And then he does and Keith feels a dangerous flicker of hope.

“Goodnight.”

Keith closes his eyes, leaning heavily on the banister, wrung out and shaking. He feels the same way he did after Naxzela.

He stares into the fire until there’s nothing left but embers, the logs falling in on themselves, sending bits of light spinning up into the dark before winking out, cold and spent.

_Please let it be enough._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CORAN IS INNOCENT IN THIS. He’s the only one I’m not mad at. He deserved better and Lance is his favorite, you can’t convince me otherwise.

Coran knocks softly on Lance’s door, not wanting to disturb him. It’s late and he needs his sleep after all. They all do. But the subtle shifts in Lance’s behavior over the past several months haven’t gone unnoticed. And after they’d all come back from their experience with Bob things had...changed. He isn’t sure exactly what happened. He wasn’t there and humans are complex things when it comes to their feelings and wellbeing; a puzzle Coran is still trying to figure out. But he’s noticed the way Lance has become more and more withdrawn. He deflects and weaves the conversations so naturally around himself to avoid talking about anything of substance that the others have hardly noticed the stretches of silence without him, a trend that’s been months in the making.

Coran wonders if anyone else can see the frays in the tapestry. He loves Allura but she can be single-minded and focused and sometimes he thinks she forgets that they’re just children. Humans live such short lifetimes and are so fragile by comparison. But they look so much like Alteans it’s easy to forget. Coran himself had forgotten.

Maybe that’s what brings him here now, this late into the night, knocking on the door to Lance’s room.

“Lance my boy?” His voice is low, wary of waking him but wanting to be heard, just in case. “Forgive me if you are asleep.” He twists his fingers together before reaching up and spinning his mustache. He doesn’t know quite what it is he wants to say but it feels important that he says something. Even if it’s to a closed door. He takes a deep breath, resting his hand against the door.

“I used to have a daughter,” he says softly. “Melora. Back before the war took her from me.” He sniffles, fussing with his mustache, smoothing it with his fingers. “You remind me of her,” he says softly, shaking his head. “I don’t know why that’s important,” he admits. “But I want you to know that you are like a son to me. And having you here as the  Paladin of the Blue lion and then the Red has been like having a small piece of her back.” His vision blurs as his mind turns to all he’s lost, all he’s given up for the war, and the one gift it had given him. Two now with Lance.

“It has been an honor and a privilege to have lived long enough to know and love you.” His hand slides down the door. “You are so very loved my boy. And I am sorry for whatever ails you.” He hangs his head. “And for whatever part I may have unknowingly played in it.”

When there’s still no answer Coran’s shoulder’s slump and he sniffles, wiping at his eyes before stepping back from the door, turning to leave.

It opens behind him and Lance is standing there, his expression more open than it’s been for weeks. A moment later he’s stepping forward and Coran opens his arms, carefully tucking Lance against him in a hug, wary of crushing his dainty human bones.

Lance’s shoulders shake and it takes him a minute to collect himself. Coran holds him for as long as Lance will allow, restlessly straightening out the lines of his shirt when Lance pulls away, fussing needlessly.

Lance finally covers Coran’s hands with his own, stilling them and Coran lets out a frustrated little breath.

“I love you too Coran.” He squeezes the other man’s hands and Coran tries to smile.

“Will you tell me what has you so heartbroken?” he asks, thumbing away one of Lance’s tears and smoothing his hair down the way Lance usually wears it, frustrated when it curls rebelliously.

Lance bites his lip.

“You don’t have to,” Coran offers. “But if you need an ear? If you think no one cares?” He squeezes Lance’s shoulder. “I do.” He smiles again, wrinkles creasing at the corners of his eyes. “If I can help, I’d like to.”

Lance finally caves and steps aside, inviting Coran into the room and shutting the door behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> Lance deserves better and I'm salty.


End file.
